You don’t know Jack…but you’re about to, because Drama King, the second Love By The Book installment by myself and the fabulous Melva Michaelian, is now available in both e-book and paperback formats.
If you’ve read Chasing Prince Charming, then you’ve already met Kelly Nolan, Meg Crawford’s clever and optimistic literary agent, who can see the best in anyone, and make it happen, by any means necessary. While it’s not necessary to have read Chasing Prince Charming to appreciate Drama King, we hope the glimpse you get here of Meg and Dominic will whet your appetite for their story.
Jack, known professionally as John Harrison Barnes, will be new to everybody, and we can’t wait for you to meet him. Jack came to us fully formed, in all his grumpy British glory, stewing in his own juices over a disastrous film debut and broken relationship, and sharing a studio apartment with Clawed, a battle-scarred orange tabby cat with strong opinions on sharing.
There’s also Kelly’s exacting family, a ragtag group of young thespians in desperate need of direction, and of course Meg, Dominic, and Heather from Chasing Prince Charming. Heather fans, take note; she will be the female lead in the next Love by the Book installment, Queen of Hearts, which we are revising now.
Melva and I had a wonderful time writing Jack and Kelly’s story. Spoiler alert: we have loved writing all three books we have written together so far and plans for many more, including a reissue of Chasing Prince Charming. We love seeing the Love by the Book universe grow, and hope you will, too.
I can describe the weather around here can be summed up in one word: snow.
view from our landing window
This means it is perfect weather for tucking in and fully committing to the great indoors. Normally, reading would be great, but depression and grief say otherwise. Thankfully, journaling is an option. I have been watching a bunch of You Tube videos on analog bags (or, in this case, Anna Log bags, and yes, the videos will resume soon) and how to use items I already have, I am very interested in using what I have before I acquire much more.
The video that lit a fire under me on this latest endeavor was this one from Abbey in Archive on You Tube. For bonus points, she has a page about Empire State Plaza in Albany, which is a familiar sight. She includes pastel pages, which is definitely relative to my interests. Right now, I am loving Morandi colors, a dusty pastel palette and making kits for individual projects, so I can pick up one thing and take it wherever. Bedroom, kitchen, cafe, library, etc.
I am writing longhand, a lot, in different journals, on a few different projects. Melva and I will have good news on Drama King very, very soon. We have seen and approved the final cover, and the only thing left is uploading. Then we are officially indie published. A Heart Most Errant will not be far behind. This is exciting and a little scary.
Anyway, back to the particular journal at hand. I am not sticking strictly to commonplacing, as in a place to collect information, but still close enough. I have one section started to create wiki-like pages for the leads in my current projects, for easy reference, so people don’t change eye color, age, or place of origin willy nilly, as has been known to happen. This can be especially useful when collaborating.
this looks much brighter than it really is
The actual pagers are not this cyan in real life; more of a soft, powdery periwinkle. Ditto with the highlighter used for the bands at top and bottom. Stickers are from a kit by Cora Crea Crafts.
That’s about it for this week. Hoping to have good news about Drama King very, very soon.
February is going to be different this year. February means Valentine’s Day, which, as a romance author and reader, is kind of a big thing. This year, though, I am also a recent widow, (still getting used to saying that) so that gives the day a whole new light. I figure I will take it as it comes, let family and friends love on me, and there is always the option of hot tea, weighted blanket, journal and comfort read.
still life from top of dresser
This thought came to me while I was at the library, donating the first round of books from RLRH’s shelves. It came as one of those weird grief things: starts out mildly surreal, but I can do this, then ‘oh crap, I’m actually doing this.’ After that, there is the whole ‘what am I doing, this is their stuff’ thing and then ‘this is what they wanted’ thing and ‘somebody is going to be super happy to find these books at the library sale,’ even if that is a reseller.
Housemate and I also went through a couple of the boxes RLRH had in storage, things he had not asked after in years, but also things he wanted to keep. Again, whole range of emotions there, and once we got home, I super crashed, with Storm paying very close attention. Housemate suggested some form of visual confirmation that we had sorted through the boxes we did. Excellent suggestion. I am all out of neon labels, but that is easily fixed. Any excuse to visit a stationery related store is a good one.
Hardware stores are more neutral. Tomorrow is, after laundry, hardware store time, for mattress bags and a decent lighting device for the storage unit. That, as well, is moving forward. Writing-wise, indie publishing journey progresses, waiting only on one thing each for Drama King and A Heart Most Errant to make their final preparations for going live. I am taking part in a program called “The Write Stuff,” through Romance Writers of America. That means a small critique group within my genre (historical this time) and monthly meetings online to learn craft and commune with others of my kind. On that front, we tap into the computer side of things.
RLRH left electronics, which need various degrees of attention. I also have a couple of devices that need attention, whether it’s ‘this thing is toast’ or ‘easily fixable’ or some other diagnosis. Wipe, factory reset, sell, donate, recycle. Now, more than ever, keeping track of what I do on what day becomes important, not only because the regular course of things has been completely obliterated, but because I am charting brand new territory. Some of that is returning to places I haven’t been in a while. Taking pictures, for one. The earrings are a Halloween purchase, but are among my favorites for everyday wear. The small perfume bottle is a gift from a friend, and the large one is RLRH’s favorite cologne, which I have appropriated. Vanilla, tobacco, and tonka bean confirm that scent does indeed hold memories.
That is a good enough place to wrap for today. I am a writer. Writers write. Thanks for reading.
Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws.
this is probably a Greatest Hits picture, but I have been busy
Things are taking on a new rhythm around here. I am Mama Anna’s number one emotional support since Papa had to go to Rainbow Bridge early. Big Sister Skye and Big Brother Ginger are surely giving him lots of purrs and headbonks. His side of the bed is now my side of the bed, and I am absolutely on top of all incoming mail. Literally. I like sitting on stuff.
Some of that stuff is stuff Papa ordered before, well, you know. These are so far surprises for Mama Anna and Aunt Linda, because he didn’t talk to either one of them about any incoming packages. No, they are not holiday gifts. The first one to arrive was an incense burner. Nobody can figure out why he ordered that because asthma. Mama Anna is not sure if incense and cats are a good mix. She has wax melts anyway.
Another thing that came was a sweater. At first, Mama Anna thought that a big, chunky sweater would be like a nice present from Papa, but then she had Aunt Linda check the fiber content. Aunt Linda knows basically everything about fibers. As suspected, it was a wool blend. Mama Anna is allergic to wool. Back in the package it goes, so it can keep somebody else warm.
The third thing I want to mention today is something Mama Anna found that was a secret, and is very much a gift from Papa. It is no secret around here how much Mama Anna loves journaling. Papa had made some noises about asking her to help him set up a journal like hers, but we all thought that did not happen…until Mama Anna found a small black fabric book. Hm. No words on the cover, nothing to tell her what it was, so she looked inside. Guess what? Papa had started a commonplace book, which is a type of journal where humans can keep lists of stuff they think is interesting, bits of ephemera and stuff.
Papa only wrote on a few pages, and his first list was creative ways to express irritation. Mama Anna says I am not allowed to post that kind of language, but she says it was like hearing him, and she laughed. She will pick up the book from where he left off and put in some pictures and memories, because they have the same sense of humor and had a lot of fun together. I suggest some pictures of Papa and me, because we love each other a lot. I was technically not allowed on his desk, but we all know how rules like that play out:
this was not an uncommon occurrence
Not every day is easy around here, but finding things like I talked about today make things more…well, Papa-y. Mama Anna and I are getting plenty of cuddles, and I help her watch stuff on her glowy boxes, preferably while she gives me belly rubs. Belly rubs benefit both of us.
Anyway, that’s pretty much it around here this week. Okay, there was the time Mama Anna caught me trying to climb the dresser drawers to get to the drawer where my treats are. She was less than impressed by that, but if I can get my own treats, that’s one thing off her plate, and on mine (literally.)
Two days before my husband died, New York got an absolutely beautiful snowfall. I’m talking what I would show an alien who asked me what a “winter wonderland” looked like. Though we are in the capitol region, a bit away from the City, we had the snow here as well. I remember watching the snow fall outside the picture window in the SICU. That’s Surgical Intensive Care Unit, though Real Life Romance Hero would have said “it’s SICU, because if you there, you sick.”
The surgical part has to do with repairing a perforated colon, though the presenting complaint was a fall down the stairs, broken ribs, broken vertebrae. RLRH had a few conditions going on, and they caught up with him. I told him about the snow day, though he was sedated. He would have appreciated looking at the local snow through our bedroom windows at home and the countless reels and images I have been watching on social media ever since. There is a sense of wonder in a snow day for me, and this one, this one was different.
Not that I knew what would happen two days later, because I didn’t, though that was the day when the inkling first squirmed to life. Maybe the snow helped cushion things in some way. I don’t know. It’s winter. We live in New York. There will be snow. RLRH started life as a California boy. His first experience with snow remains vivid. “Honey, the rain feels weird.” That was before he learned of the big coat. I am keeping his favorite big coat.
When it did happen, I held his hand until it was over. Housemate was there, and the hospital chaplain. One of the nurses brought in what they called a bereavement tray, which Housemate describes as a selection of sugared sodas and some potato chips under a plastic cover. We did not partake of it, though I appreciate the thought. We are within walking distance of the hospital, so home wasn’t far. It was, however, different.
I am…okay. Finding my way in the new normal. Writing helps, so the current plan is Typing With Wet Nails on Tuesday and Typing With Wet Paws on Fridays. Topics will not be this heavy every time, I promise. Melva and I are on track to put out Drama King in the very near future, followed in (hopefully) short order, A Heart Most Errant. Melva and I are both working on stories for a Christmas anthology, and I am back in Her Last First Kiss. I am trying some new things with my planning and journaling this year, with ideas for videos. Storm is, of course, on duty. Kitty cuddles are excellent purr-apy.
Coming back to the snowfall feels right, so let’s do that. The first place my brain goes when I reach for another snowy memory is many years in the past, when an outing with another couple turned out to be an MLM meeting. I refused to return after a break, and RLRH was not about to leave me on my own. So, despite my wearing high heeled pumps, we wandered for the next two hours through a strange New England town in the dark and the snow, and it was indeed a winter wonderland. The memory is still strong of that night. We did meet up with the other couple, who were our ride, at the end of the evening, and we did not join the MLM.
The mix of snow and romance stuck, though, and I believe it always will. It sparked one of my earliest forays into romantic fiction, and there is an echo of it in the solo story I am providing to the Christmas collection. This story is contemporary, but I do like the idea of a historical Christmas story, so maybe next collection. I can’t leave this post without mentioning the time we went on a wintry horse and carriage ride, and the best part was when the horse, ah, un-ate, during the ride. Horse poop is funny, full stop.
So, that’s it for the first blog of 2026. I hope your holiday were good ones, and if holidays do not apply, I hope you had a good December. Let’s see what the new year has to offer.
Yesterday was a gorgeous snow day in NY state. We are not in the city, but I saw plenty of such pictures from those who were, and it was everything I ever would want from a NYC snow day. I did get to see the snow from the waiting room outside where Real Life Romance Hero is staying right now. Yesterday was a good-ish day. The day before, not so much. We are still figuring out a few things. I am not using my planners much right now, as days are pretty much the same – days are for hospital, then home for dinner and sleep. Housemate is handling domestic matters.
Journals, though, I am using a lot. Hospital journal. Personal journal. Notes on writing stuff. Not notes about blogging, because I am winging it for now. This is a time for blurting. What is on my mind is on the page. We are one day at a time-ing it over here. This is my favorite time of year, and yet this year, we are outside of it. That is what it is. I am setting up for 2026, though. I like the focus. This does include writing things. The need to write is strong. Fiction the most, because that’s my big creative love. I am interested to see what my writing will do in and after this season.
Storm is definitely doing her job. When I get home from the hospital, she meets me at the door. She leads me into the bedroom, and insists I lie on the bed, so she can jump on me, loaf, and purr. I pet her. She is warm and soft. She insists that Housemate and I give her gushy food when we have our dinner. She has a new tilted food dish that is only for gushy food. She deserves all the treats and many belly rubs.
Housemate comes with me most days now. Having the company helps a lot. Yesterday, she sat next to me and crocheted, explaining her stitches and such, even though I do not myself crochet. I like the rhythm of her stitches. I tell RLRH about what is happening at home, the weather outside, share memories and inside jokes. I write in my hospital journal, notes on RLRH’s care, and thinking on paper, much like here, whatever is in my brain. I know I need and want to be reading, though my brain is not quite there yet. I haven’t listened to Christmas music; I want to, though. My usual Christmas movie re-watches — Love Actually, The Holiday, About A Boy— I have waved at from a distance. I love them, I think about them, and I can absolutely watch them at any time of the year. Same with Christmas/holiday books, foods, etc.
Family emergencies are tough. Holidays can be tough. Combine the two, and it’s something else altogether. Like I said, we are one day at time-ing the whole thing. That is good enough for now.
Hey, all. Anna here. As Storm said earlier, we are on a life detour around here. On Thanksgiving Eve, Real Life Romance Hero fell on the stairs, which resulted in a hospital stay. I won’t go into details here, but the goal is discharge. Days now begin with a hike to the hospital (we are only a few blocks away) and then the day goes as it goes. Hike back home, chill with Housemate and Storm, then wind down for the day.
Here, I will mention that I have anxiety and PTSD in part around loved ones in hospitals, so that adds another level. RLRH is stable, and I am doing what I need to do. Part of that includes getting my planners and journals set p for 2026. Right now, I want to use what I already have. Thankfully, I have a good deal. Focusing on things like planning and writing actually helps a lot, so I am planning (hah, see what I did there?) on setting up a tentative posting schedule here and on Melvaandanna.com.
A couple of days ago, I came home from the hospital, not yet ready for bed. I set up January in a personal sized ring planner, with an undated refill that has lovely pale pink accents throughout. I like my own handwriting, so I don’t need date stickers. I’m pretty well stocked with deco stickers, washi, etc. I like to think of it as a wine cellar for stationery. Please note, I do not drink, so maybe I have the wrong idea of how to use a wine cellar.
My everyday carry (EDC) is different when my destination is the hospital, not knowing how long I will be there. I bring one bound journal, equipped with colored page flags. I call it my maid of all work journal because that is what makes most sense for me. Everything goes in there. Notes on RLRH\s progress, notes on apartment stuff, personal journaling, and writing stuff.
Melva is taking the lead on publishing Drama King in early 2026. We have a tagline now, which I will debut on our site, and I will return to editing Queen of Hearts once things calm down over here. A Heart Most Errant will also be out in 2026, and I am writing on A Heart Most Ardent. A scene between my two leads, newlywed strangers, fell out of my pen in one waiting room session. Writing felt good. Familiar. Useful, even. Not perfect, not firm, but written, and that is the most important thing.
TLDR: RLRH needs some extra care right now, planning is mental health, and 2026 will see new releases in both contemporary and historical romance. I am also making some loose plans for 2026 reading, but that’s another story. Pun intended.
Tails Up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. This holiday season has taken a turn nobody expected. On the night before Thanksgiving, Papa fell down some stairs and had to go to the people vet. The people vets are taking good care of him, and he should be better soon. Mama Anna goes to the people vet every day to help and spend time with him. Aunt Linda takes care of things on the home front, and I will be in charge of social media for the rest of December.
The posting schedule for December will be: lawless wasteland. There will be posts, but no promises on when or about what. Probably pictures of me. There can never be enough pictures of me. Mama Anna gives me updates on Papa when she comes home. Things are going okay, overall. Papa is in good hands, and Mama Anna is in good paws, meaning mine.
Mama Anna is not sure what we are going to do for decorating this season, because helping Papa comes first, but she does want to do something. Maybe one of those ceramic trees she tells me her mama and aunts used to have. We will see. She did get out a box of some Christmas stuff and in it was a me-sized Santa hat. Here is a fun fact: I am 100% fine with Mama Anna putting things on my head. Nobody else, though. Maybe I will let her put the Santa hat on me for a holiday picture.
Yesterday, we had lots of snow here in this part of NY. Mama Anna loves snow, and she liked being able to look out windows at the people vet and watch it fall. I watched it from Mama Anna’s office chair, pointed toward the bedroom window. Unlike Mama Anna, I have no desire to go out in it. Being barefoot by default, I do not like even the idea of putting my beans in the cold stuff.
My job, when Mama Anna gets home, is to greet her at the door and lead her to the bed, so she can tell me all about her and Papa’s day, and then we cuddle. Then I get gushy food. I also inspect the bag Mama Anna takes with her for the day. It has lots of pockets, so it is super interesting. She can get a paper book, her tablet/Kindle, and journal stuff. It could theoretically also hold a calico cat, but apparently they do not allow cats into the people vet. Hmph.
Tails up, Storm Troopers. I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. We are in a plague house, according to Mama Anna. Papa is Patient Zero, and all of the humans are down with a cold. The middle of November seems to be a reasonable time for a pre-winter cold. The humans will be fine in a couple of days. In the meantime, Mama Anna says I have to do the blog for her.
I, of course, am fine. I spent most of yesterday afternoon investigating and playing with this awesome bag from when Mama Anna and Aunt Linda got takeaway. Trust me, the bag smelled amazing. I got to sit on it, inside it, and bunny kicked the heck out of the bottom. The only thing I can think of to make it perfect (or purr-fect) would be to add either treat or catnip (or both.) Mama Anna said something about proof of life, so I get to have today’s blog.
Some of the coming attractions: Mama Anna needs to set up the planner for 2026, which she will be making from scratch (I will be helping, as I am great at scratching) She has plenty of undated and easily re-date-able planners to take over if need be. For today, I am on nurse duty, watching all of the humans. I plan to do a lot of lying on top of Mama Anna, while she either reads or listens to YouTube videos about historical romance, because she finds she has a lot to say on the subject.
Holiday plans are now going into effect. Yesterday, Mama Anna and Aunt Linda picked up what will be our Christmas stockings, a tradition Mama Anna is bringing back. Stockings will hold snacks and diversions to keep us busy until Christmas dinner. For right now, though, Thanksgiving comes first. Mama Anna is salty that Thanksgiving often gets skipped over between Halloween and Christmas. Plan A for Thanksgiving is that Papa will cook. Plan B is they will go to. I am not allowed to have turkey, because it makes my stomach unhappy, so I will probably have tuna. Also Temptations. I love Temptations. (not a sponsored post, but, Temptations, DM me.)
Back in the day, Mama Anna had a tradition of getting herself the new Maggie Osborne historical romance novel to read the day before Thanksgiving. There is a problem with that since Maggie Osborne retired some time ago, but thankfully (or Thanksgivingsly) there are ways around this. Libraries, e-books, and secondary markets mean Mama Anna can find copies of Maggie Osborne books to re-read, or she can find a vintage historical that she hasn’t yet read.
I am going to wrap this early because I have triple nurse duty today. If I can herd Mama Anna into bed, Papa is there already and that makes two humans in the same place. Much easier to tend. i am fairly certain I can convince them to agree to a whole family nap.
I have been thinking lately about Vermont. I lived there in my freshman and sophomore years of college, and fell in love with the place. It’s been a while since I’ve been back there, and never to the actual campus (well, two of them, but I am not sure on the plural of “campus.”) In a romance novel worthy bit, that school I went to before transferring to the school where I met Real Life Romance Hero? That was RLRH’s second choice school, so if he’d gone there, we would have met anyway. That’s not what I’m thinking about, though.
What I’m thinking about is that last night, we got our first snow. I did not get to witness it, that I was hard at work on Queen of Hearts edits, or I was before Melva found the draft I was supposed to be editing, which is now the job before me. We got snow flurries again today, nothing sticking, (please play an acoustic instrumental version of Noah Khan’s “Stick Season” softy in the background here) because of a delicious nap that can only happen on a gray November day.
But Vermont. The image that comes first to mind when I think of Vermont is the first time (there were more) I stood under a streetlight as the snow poured down, my head tilted up, captivated by the beauty of the snowflakes dancing their way down to earth. Vermont was where I learned that my favorite part of prepping the daycare classroom was mixing unique shades of tempera paints for the standing easels. Vermont was where I found a small used bookstore that became my second home, where my ire that there were Traditional Regency romances but no Traditional Tudors, Traditional Medievals, or Traditional Any Other Era, first took form. Vermont is where a friend chased me across campus to put what she promised would be one of my favorite books in my hand (she was right.)
Vermont was also where I wrote my first historical romance novel, now thankfully lost to the vicissitudes of fate. I would race back to my dorm from class, turn on the electronic typewriter (dating myself, but that’s fine. I’m delightful.) stick in a fresh sheet of paper, and off I went. In time, my dormmates figured out what I was doing, and it was common enough that I had an audience as I wrote. It’s not realistic to expect people to physically stand behind me, urging me to write faster, because they are reading the lines as they appear on the paper, but I can come close. This is the interwebs, after all. I do have a blog, and two websites, and the serial format does exist.
In a broader sense, I do associate Vermont with higher education, and that makes sense. It’s been a wild ride for the past few years. I prefer to think of multiple attempts to get back up on the metaphorical horse to point to a survivor’s spirit rather than a series of failures. I have been making notes lately on things I would like to blog (and vlog) about. There’s the fact that I feel like a stranger in a strange land in many bookish spaces. Mass Market paperbacks are no longer so “mass,” as trade size seems to be more prevalent. Historical romance is going through some changes (down but not out, broken bones heal stronger, all that) and I am back in the freshman phase of being the adult new kid once again. Now go make friends. Start with others in your major (genre? I am the very model of a modern major genre?) or those in your dorm.
The more I think on it, the more it fits. Beginner’s mind. Lots of reading. Take many notes. Talk to others doing the same thing I am. Study. Find your place. Fall down five times, get up six. Apple cider donuts are delicious (another important Vermont lesson) and the right hot beverage can be a boost like no other. This isn’t the blog I planned to post today, but it is the one that feels the most genuine, so this is what you get. Turned in on time is a good thing.
Typing With Wet Nails 